A Racket for 2
by Agent R
Summary: Richie and Methos learn badminton, so what could go wrong? Everything. Not a pretty sight, but very funny, hope you enjoy, please R&R.
1. Default Chapter

A Racket For 2  
  
"Well, that has to be the worst airplane I've ever flone on, not counting one that took flight in 1907 and crashed into the mountains," Methos said as they exited the airport.  
  
"Oh shutup Methos, it wasn't that bad," Duncan assured him.  
  
"Not that bad? Duncan, a charter plane that's hijacked wouldn't be that bad...this was just plain bloody horrible," Methos said.  
  
"I know that for sure...I got airsick before we got on the plane, when we got on the plane, when we sat down, when we fastened our seatbelts, before we took off, when we took off, after we took off, when they served lunch, dinner, the little bags of peanuts, when they showed the in-flight movie, when we went to sleep, when we woke up, when they served breakfast, before we landed, when we landed, and right after I got off the airplane! Now if that isn't bloody horrible, I don't know what is," Richie replied.  
  
"Well we'll have to see if Darrel has some air-sick pills you can take on the way back," Duncan said.  
  
"Remind me again, MacLeod, why did you insist on dragging us over to England when you know it's at the coldest weather of the year?" Methos asked.  
  
"Well, I thought you just might get a kick out of meeting some of Darrel's friends...I've known him for 23 years, he's a real scream," Duncan said.  
  
"Yeah right," Methos sighed, "What's this faggot's name again?"  
  
"Aren't you pleasant today?" Duncan grinned to himself.  
  
"What do you want from me, MacLeod? I've spent the last 17 hours on a bumpy airplane full of annoying foreigners who don't know when to freakin' shut up, while they served cold squid stuck to a J-ello mold for dinner...and half a dozen people drool in their sleep whereas another half a dozen mumble to themselves, and one of them kept slapping the back of my head while I tried to get 2 hours of sleep...not to mention the fact that after dinner, if you could call it that...one lady kept flossing so close, she practically got the ends of it in MY mouth...I don't exactly feel like keeping my bad mood down to a dull roar or a G-rating, now what the devil is this frickin' idiot's name?" Methos asked.  
  
"Mitchell, Darrel Mitchell," Duncan repeated for what must have been the 10th time since they first arrived at the airport yesterday.  
  
"I sure hope he doesn't have a 5-year-old toehead for a kid...otherwise we could be in biiiiiiig trouble," Methos scoffed.  
  
"Very funny Methos," Duncan said as he became tired of Methos' sarcasm, "no really, he lives with a few old friends and a couple of relatives...they're really great to be around."  
  
"Perhaps if you're used to people jabber Medeval rubbish while drinking cheap wine of which they don't bother to take off their shoes when they make...while listening to some fat dead man play a violin like a cat fixes a washing machine with a jackhammer, then they're great to be around...but otherwise...the kid and me are staying in our rooms the whole trip," Methos said.  
  
"Methos, I think you're a little quick to judge some very intellictual people before you even get a chance to get acquainted with them," Duncan said.  
  
"That's not my fault, I'm over 5,000 years old, you juvenile Immortals, you get over 300, you think you know everything...at my age, you have to be quick to judge something, otherwise you could lose your head before you have a chance to roll your eyes," Methos said.  
  
"Hey!" Richie spoke up, "Why are you assuming I'm going to be spending this entire trip in my room?"  
  
"Do the math, kid, all of Duncan's friends we're going to see are past 30...or more appropiately probably 300...they listen to opera, they sit, they drink cheap wine, they smoke faaaaat cigars, talk about Shakespeare and Bradstreet, discussing metaphors and asking rhetoricle questions...wearing white preppy outfits with bicycle shorts and sweater vests...probably all men...you're not going to want to be around them, kid. On top of that, it is the middle of spring, and the warmest weather we're looking into is 50-something, because we're expecting rain throughout the entire next week," Methos said.  
  
"I see your point," Richie responded.  
  
Duncan rolled his eyes as he put their luggage in the trunk of the car, "Will you two try to act mature when we get there? I haven't seen Darrel since 1973...and he's not exactly the kind of person who would understand.....you know..."  
  
"You mean he's not Immortal?" Methos asked.  
  
"Ding-ding-ding-ding!" Duncan said through his teeth on the side of his mouth, "Somebody give this man a ci-gar!"   
  
"Mac, won't he find it just a liiiittle strange that you haven't aged a bit?" Richie asked.  
  
"I don't think so....last time I talked to him...he said he's getting cataracts," Duncan said.  
  
"So then why the hell doesn't he get them removed?" Methos asked.  
  
"He says he refuses to go until he absolutely can't see," Duncan said, "he's very stubborn, he's been that way since Vietnam started...Unfortunately, half-way through the war, he was nearby an explosion....a storm shelter blew up, he got hit in the head with one of the boards...I think that's where it started."  
  
Methos rolled his eyes as he jumped into the passenger seat of the car and shut the door, "just shutup, get in, and drive us to this rainbow's house," he threatened, "or else I'm driving!"  
  
"Allright, allright, Richie, get in, and we'll get out of here in a few seconds," Duncan said.  
  
Richie climbed in the back window and fell into his seat, Duncan glared in the rear view mirror, trying to avoid busting a gut laughing.  
  
"Are you ready?" Duncan asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
So Duncan stepped on the accelerator and they took off.  
  
"Remind me again, MacLeod, why did I even bother coming here?" Methos asked.  
  
"Well," Duncan started.  
  
"Forget that, how did the matter of this even come up?" Methos asked.  
  
"Uhhhhhhh....if memory serves," Duncan had to think since the matter at hands came up 2 months ago, "you came over to see me, I told you I wouldn't be staying long since I was going to meet a friend of mine...and you asked 'is it anyone I know?' and I said I had strong doubts about it, and you asked 'who is he?' and I told you and you said 'the name sounds familiar, but then again, after 5,000 years, something you briefly heard 3 years ago sounds familiar'. So then Richie asked if you'd be interested in coming along, and you said 'why? are you coming along Brat?' and he said he was, and you said...."  
  
"Duncan...as much as I hate to interrupt this...rather entertaining segment of you speaking in numerous falsetto tones....will you cut to the chase before we reach the next millenium?" Methos asked, "I'm an old man, I have to plan, I have places to go, people to see, laws to break, hell to cause, backs to break, people like you to drive insane, the regular stuff...so get to the point before I have you singing Soprano to add to your humerous voices..."  
  
"Well...to be frank...you thought you'd get a kick out of seeing some of the people I've met over the years...and see if associated with them is anyone you know," Duncan said, "so that's why you came."  
  
"I see," Methos leaned back against his seat and looked up at the ceiling of the car, "Richie..."  
  
"What?" Richie asked.  
  
"The next time I think following this babboon half-way across the globe will be interesting...just behead me," Methos said.  
  
"Methos!" Duncan grunted, "Will you give it a rest? I think this will be rather amusing for you of all people..."  
  
"Oh yeah," Methos sarcastically replied, "should be about as fun as the Depression...my mistake, during the Depression, we found a few things to do...this should be about as entertaining as watching paint dry..."  
  
"You just wait...I think you'll be surprised by what you see," Duncan said.  
  
Duncan was trying to keep patient with Methos, in a way he was his guest, and also somehow his repsonsibility. Lately it seemed like he was a father to two rambunctious teenaged sons, Methos and Richie seemed to be getting along rather well, and that wasn't well for anyone around them. He was hoping by the time they reached Darrel's estate, Methos would cool his temper...and stay away from any female guests staying there as well.  
  
[If not, there's always hope for sticking him in the rain barrel and cooling his lava,] Duncan thought to himself.  
  
Duncan made a sharp turn on the road, swerving to the right, he was on his way to meet a friend from 24 years ago, he only hoped that when he arrived, he and Darrel didn't try to kill each other when they saw one another again. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
An hour later, they reached Darrel's estate, the property took up close to 3 miles, with a mansion set in the middle of it, looking put together of about 35 rooms, and a few guest estates as well.  
  
"Fancy," Methos spat, "who's taking up residence here?"  
  
"This is it," Duncan told him.  
  
"THIS is where your friend is staying? Methos asked.  
  
"You sound surprised," Duncan said as he drove the car around to the driveway.   
  
Methos opened his mouth then immediately closed it again, then he opened it again and only got out "I-" before they hit a pot-hole, he bumped his head on the roof of the car and fell back in his seat, then he picked it up again, "I am surprised...I'm surprised the friends you make aren't still living in caves."  
  
Duncan snorted, "I think you're thinking back to more of the friends YOU'VE made."  
  
"No...my friends never lived in caves, during the Bronze Age they lived in tents, before that, they lived on holy ground," Methos said.  
  
"And before that?" Duncan asked, fearing he would regret hearing the answer.  
  
"Before that they lived in holes in the ground, sometimes they they had to dig ditches beside the river for a drink in the middle of the night, sometimes they dug trenches to live in," Methos said. "Of course when heavy winds blew up, we had to make the trenches near four feet tall so no one would notice when your---rags blew over your head...Sometimes we dug them up to here," Methos placed his hand near the middle of his ribs, "that way, if we felt like walking around nude, we didn't have to worry about anyone noticing...and sometimes we dug them up to here," Methos set his hand slightly above his head, "so-"  
  
"Let me guess," Richie butted in, "so the disgraces of the village wouldn't see you, right?"  
  
"No you retard!" Methos turned around, "so the mother-in-law couldn't find you. I thought every simpleton knew that."  
  
"Well," Duncan started as he put the car in park, "whatever you do, don't talk like that around Darrel and his friends."  
  
"Why?" Methos asked, "are you embarrassed to have me as a guest?"  
  
"No, I'm just never going to hear the end of it if anyone finds out you were around BEFORE the first flood," Duncan said.  
  
"You said this friend of yours has cataracts?" Methos asked as he opened the glove department and started rumaging around in it.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So make him think he's going senile to boot," Methos said as he continued going through everything in the glove department.  
  
"Methos, I think you should show him some respect, and furthermore, don't be offensive, bizarre, and I really don't think this is the time for whatever the hell you're doing," Duncan told him.  
  
"Just looking for something, MacLeod," he responded.  
  
"What?" Duncan asked as he stepped out, "is that where you're currently keeping your Trojans?"  
  
"Funny, MacLeod, you should consider stand-up comedy, they'll love you there," Methos sarcasm wore thin.  
  
"Well then WHAT are you digging around for in there?" Richie asked.  
  
Methos pulled out a switchblade, a screwdriver, a spare set of keys, a pack of matches, a notebook, a fountain pen, and a skeleton key. He put the screwdriver in his coat pocket, and threw the rest of it out of the car window.  
  
"What are you going to do with that?" Duncan asked as he unloaded the trunk.  
  
"Since odds are we're going to be surrounded by all male friends, I may as well find another way of screwing around here," Methos said as he got out.  
  
Richie jumped through to the front seat and out the door as well and went around to Duncan, who was hunched over, trying to get their bags out of the trunk, murmuring a bunch of swears to himself.  
  
"Anything you need me to do, Mac?" Richie asked.  
  
"Yeah Rich, why don't you go around and tell Richie that I---" Duncan looked up and realized who he was talking to, "how long have you been standing there?"  
  
"Long enough," Richie said, "so, aside from what you've said about your crazy war-buddy and Methos' interpretation of him, what's this fruitcake like?"  
  
"He's not a fruitcake, Richie," Duncan said as he handed him one of his suitcases, "he's an old friend who I can't recall much about other than he's very intellectual, a man of the world, and someone who doesn't step on ants."  
  
"They said the same thing about Mussolini when he was young," Methos said.  
  
Duncan looked up over at Methos, "Will you TRY to mind your manners during this stay, please?"   
  
"I promise nothing," Methos said, "just tell me this much, do they have a good stock of liquor?"  
  
"Cellar full," Duncan said, "plenty of everything, lots of club soda for mixing drinks, and plenty of lemons and powdered sugar to bite on after the vodka."  
  
"Damn you're good," Methos said.  
  
Duncan jerked the rest of their luggage out, handed Methos his share of it, and they headed up to the house.  
  
"Nice place, I hope somebody's home," Methos said, "that is, someone living..."  
  
"Be nice, Methos," Richie said, "how often is it Mac drags us along with him half-way across the globe?"  
  
"Seldom," Methos said, "why do you think I'm on my worst behavior when he does?"  
  
They got to the front doors, Duncan grabbed the door knocker and banged it a few times. Methos focused his eyes on the figure on the knocker, it looked a lot like a vampire bat.  
  
"If that thing comes to life and starts snapping, I'm out of here," Methos told Richie.  
  
A few seconds after Duncan let go of the knocker, the door opened and they were greeted by a man standing little over 6 feet tall with short brown spiky hair, and bloodshot eyes.  
  
"Duncan MacLeod, good to see you!" he said.  
  
"Nice to see you again, Darrel," Duncan took the man's hand in his and shook it.  
  
"You didn't tell me you were bringing your family with you," Darrel said.  
  
Methos and Richie exchanged confused looks, this fruitcake had to have had cataracts to mistake them for being related to Duncan, the Immortal boyscout.  
  
"Darrel, this isn't my family," Duncan told him.  
  
"No?" Darrel asked, "Then why'd you marry 'em?"  
  
Again, Methos and Richie exchanged vexed looks, they hadn't been at this guy's house for 30 seconds and already they were freaked out by their host.  
  
"Darrel, these are my friends, Richard Ryan, and Adam Pierson," Duncan said.  
  
"Oh...nice to meet you," Darrel extended his hand to Richie, "Nice to meet you Mister Pierson."  
  
"That's Mister Pierson," Duncan pointed to Methos.  
  
"I'm sorry Mister Ryan," Darrel took Ducnan's hand in his and shook it.  
  
"I'm Richie Ryan!" Richie said.  
  
"Well why don't the fine mess of you all come on in and make yourselves at home?" Darrel asked.  
  
Darrel took Duncan's bags and started in the house. As Duncan started to set foot in the house, Methos jerked him back by the collar of his jacket, "I don't care if your friend is senile, brain damaged, or has cataracts...Immortal or not, if he tries anything funny with me, I'm taking his head."  
  
"Don't worry, Methos, he's completely harmless," Duncan murmured.  
  
"That's what they said about Alphonse Capone," Methos told him.  
  
"Just get going, I'm sure once you get acquainted with he and his friends, you'll hit it off and will be fine with staying here," Duncan said.  
  
"Whatever," Methos said.  
  
Methos gripped his luggage and slowly stepped in, Richie cautiously followed behind him, looking around the house. Covered in a decor that reaked of a century before. A suit of armor rested at the foot of the stairs, The dining room was just a few steps away, a long table with 18 chairs seated around it, a white silk tablecloth, brand new silverware and china plates at every seating area of the table, golden candelabras, crystal chandeliers overhead.  
  
"If they're this fancy out here in the public, I can't imagine what this guy has in his bedroom," Methos murmured to Richie.  
  
"Oh please Methos, what fancy thing could a guy have in his bed- oh!" Richie realized.  
  
"Darrel, is someone there?" they heard.  
  
"Yes Agnes, it's Duncan MacLeod, and a few of his friends, I told you about him, they've come for a visit," Darrel replied.  
  
"What is that?" Richie asked.  
  
"We have some company over in the living room, mayhaps you'd like to get acquainted with everyone," Darrel said.  
  
"Do we have a choice?" Richie asked Methos.  
  
"No, but if anyone tries anything funny, look in your bag," Methos replied.  
  
"Huh?" Richie asked.  
  
"Come on you two, let's go," Duncan said, "try to have some respect for the people living here, will you?"  
  
"Why not? I got nothing to lose except my self-esteem," Richie said.  
  
They followed Darrel into the living room, there were 5 men and 2 women, all who looked like they were born some 60 years ago. Everyone looked at them with a morbid silence filling the room, and everyone was dressed in black, as if they were coming from a funeral. Richie tilted his head a bit over to Methos, "what is this?"  
  
"Looks like the Republican party from when Truman left office," Methos replied.  
  
"Everyone," Darrel started, "this is Duncan MacLeod, the man I've told you so much about."  
  
"Oh yes," one of the women said, "you're the one who got drunk on bootleg brandy and woke up in the longfellow bed in the furniture display window the next day."  
  
Duncan turned bright red in embarrassment, that was one thing he'd hoped Darrel would've forgotten over time.  
  
"Uh Darrel," Duncan finally said, "why don't you introduce us?"  
  
"Okay," Darrel said, "Duncan this is Adam, Adam this is Duncan, Adam this is Richie, Richie this is-"  
  
"We've ALREADY met," Methos told him.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, my deepest apologies, Richard," Darrel patted Richie on the shoulder.  
  
"My name's Richie," he corrected him.  
  
"This is James Patterson, Johnathan Hall, Huntz Dollangahnger, Laci Stevenson, Gordon Anderson, Jeffery Lewis, and this is Agnes Henderson...everybody, this is Duncan MacLeod, Adam Pierson, and Richard Ryan," Darrel said.  
  
Before Richie could correct him again, everyone responded with a loud 'hello'.  
  
"Darrel tells us you now run an antique store in Seacouver," Laci said.  
  
"Well I did, ma'am,' Duncan said, "but not anymore."  
  
"Well what do you do now?" Agnes asked.  
  
Duncan seated himself on the couch beside Darrel and looked over at Laci, "Well I-"  
  
"He's been in a fine mess of businesses, but none seem to be satisfying enough for him," Methos walked over to the couch and seated himself beside Duncan.  
  
"And what business profession are you in, Mister Pierson?" Agnes asked.  
  
"I'm...I'm his lawyer," Methos answered.  
  
"Oh, you're an attorney," Agnes said.  
  
"He does more than that," Richie sat on the arm of the couch next to Methos, "lawyer, doctor, Indi oof!"  
  
Methos quickly cut Richie off by jabbing him in the ribs.  
  
"Oh, so you're a moonlighter?" Agnes asked.  
  
"You could say that," Methos said, "I always find one job per day too limiting, so I decided to see what all exactly it is I'm good at."  
  
"Really...which university did you attend?" Jeffery asked.  
  
Now Duncan was worried, he was worried Methos would blurt out that he was around before colleges were. But, much to his relief, Methos just answered, "I received my Master's Degree at the University of Oregon in 1978."  
  
"Oh really?" Huntz asked, "If memory serves, in 1978, they had a riot breakout or something or other at that University."  
  
"Oh yes, National Lampooon's Animal House filmed there...it was total chaos, beer by the kegs, Roman toga parties all hours of the night, joints so powerful, they make your eyes go back in your head, it was a beautiful sight...and let's not forget, the fight that started the weekend before shooting, two sides, all beating the daylights out of one another, everyone getting cuts and black eyes, some people getting their teeth busted out, all that over a cup of beer...oh boy do I miss those days," Methos grinned.  
  
Much to his surprise, everyone in the room was gawking at him, most of them in shock.  
  
"I can't believe that you would engage in such a foolish thing," Agnes said.  
  
"Oh no, it really came in handy with my medical practice, you see, I got my Master's Degree at the University of Oregon, before heading to medical school, I knew that I had the skills of a doctor, and when the fight broke out, it only proved how experienced I already was at the recommended practices," Methos calmly explained.  
  
"Well, I suppose that makes sense," Laci said, "are you married?"  
  
"No miss, I'm happy," Methos said.  
  
Methos realized his own age made Laci seem like a teenager, but he had a thing against old ladies with gray hair, wrinkles, liver spots, and trying to sport a flapper dress.  
  
Duncan placed his hand over his eyes as everyone continued to gawk at them, they hadn't been guests in Darrel's home for more than 10 minutes and already he was certain Methos' optimistic ways would get them thrown out. 


End file.
